


Collide

by RedBirdBella



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, friends to lovers kinda, how they grow up, i have very little idea where this is going, theyre criminals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16665226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBirdBella/pseuds/RedBirdBella
Summary: The criminal underground is an elite club with its own deals, feuds, gossip and social scene. Everyone knows everyone as far as anyone can tell.Natasha and Clint met long before either of them joined SHIELD. He was a criminal climbing the ranks for in the infamous Carlson crime family. She was the KGBs most prized weapon. After Clint arrives on SHIELDS radar and he begins to forget about it until one mission brings his past crashing into the present.





	Collide

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is awful. i plan to edit this when i get time i just wanted to put it up to get people views on this. i will adjust this by the end of the week so it actually flows decently. i will update these notes when i am happy with this first chapter :)

Clint throws himself into the chair with an enthusiasm he usually reserves for soccer and his bow. He sulks sinking down low in the chair. He never enjoys these meetings; the formality brings him out in a rash. Often his hearing aids would mysteriously stop working during the longer debates. 

There’s a folder laid out with his name printed on the top in the small uniform markings of a typewriter. He rubs his finger a across it smearing the fresh red ink, even now somethings were not safe enough for computerisation. Barton rubs at it again enjoying the distraction of the delicate indentations left in the soft cream paper. A loud sigh brings him back to the present and a folder smeared with red fingerprints.

“I can see your back to your usual destructive self, Barton?” Coulson says with a grin, “Recovered from Prague?”

Oh yes. Prague. That disaster. 6 weeks it had taken him to recover from his injuries, but he had completed the mission. He recalls the satisfaction of shooting up the factory after weeks of watching and waiting and well- it was just everything that happened after that he regretted. 

Coulson latches onto Barton’s smug grin “Good that was just the warm up. We need you to neutralise a weapon for us. It won’t be easy. It’ll make Prague look like a field trip”

“If this is like Hamburg. Then I think a scientist would be better suited-“

“Its not a bomb no. It’s something I think you have more than experience with”

Clint opens the file skimming over the sparse pieces of information.

“A woman?”

“A widow actually. The Black widow. Mother Russia’s favourite child”

“Who does she work for?”

“Whoever the KGB desire”

He raises his eyebrows “Those scumbags. You remember how my last dealing with them went” Phil waves his complaint away, “I’m asking you to kill her not make friends”

“There isn’t much to go off here” Clint continues

“Its not like you’d pay attention to what’s in there anyway.” He looks down at his own file “She’s good. Really good and getting better. We only have one confirmed sighting of her, on the back page of your file. We believe the KGB are trying to establish a network through the Baltics converting Soviet sympathisers. It’s a risk but we need to stop them advancing, killing her would be the best way to send a message. The clearest signs of KGB presence are in Estonia. You fly out tomorrow” 

Clint nods “I’ll be ready”

Coulson nods back at him turning towards the door, “0600 hours Barton, don’t be late” 

Clint spends his remaining free time in the shooting range practicing with his bow. The blurry image of the short but elegant red head and a few legends of the Black Widow running through his head. He wrote half the stories of instantly as propaganda meant to scare lesser men then him and took the remaining with a large heap of salt. But there’s something about the photo that unnerves him, that worms its way through his brain. It’s an itch he can’t scratch but he packs it back away before he can dwell on it for too long. 

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
Clint enjoys the hunt for the KGB. SHIELD gives him free reign to find them however he wishes, he chooses to stake out the roads looking for any unusual eb and flow of traffic. After a few weeks he isolates it to a poorer area of the city which records show is having money rained down on it like water but as far as Clint can see it’s all going down the drain. 

There’s a thin layer of grim covering the whole place Clint decides when he starts to look for somewhere clean and dry to stay. The grey colour scheme doesn’t help, it leaves the city looking like an awful cheap film set. 

It takes almost a month until he isolates the building the KGB in and another month until he sees a female in the flats beyond the few prostitutes who never make it up to the higher floors. He counts 20 young women who arrive one by one but only a handful have the widows build and none of them her hair colour. He reasons it must be hard to dye and if she’s as good as SHIELD believes it wouldn’t be worth the hassle and anyway, they’re simply dancers. He sees them practicing on one of the higher floors. He starts to wonder if this all a mistake, if he’s becoming cold and wet and miserable for the KGBs latest foray into the arts. It wouldn’t be the first time for their preferred method of money laundering, he recalls remembering his own hushed meetings at operas and art galleries. 

So, it’s a moment of rejoicing when he finally finds a decent bar, well first he finds the roof, then the bar underneath after he starts to miss greenery and life among the dull skyline. He has a strict set of requirements for any bar, one its safe enough that he won’t get poisoned but rough enough that no one will remember his face in the morning. The three barmaids take a shine to him but none of them are married so Clint knows that won’t be a problem. They must be related, a mother? aunt? and the youngest a pretty blonde who won’t give Clint her name. It turns into a long drawn out game but she’s a good source of local knowledge, so he plays along. 

He becomes a frequent visitor late at night, after happy hour is long gone and people’s memories are fuzzy. It’s a good plan, the only downside being the drunk and rowdy men who terrorise the barmaids and upset the neighbours. They’re irritating, and the last straw is them touching the barmaids, so he gets rid of them. The young blonde bargirl plants herself in Clint’s lap, batting her eyelashes and pouting like every rotten cliché Clint had seen. It feels awkward, like a child at play so Clint moves away but wrapping a protective arm round her shoulder. He'd been expecting the thugs to put up more of a fight, but all it took was one long glare- 

“They won’t touch you when they know who your bosses are, we get a lot of them now. Not usually American traitors though.” To Clint’s surprise it’s the girl "Put in a good word for me. My names Viktoria, I’d love to be one of their dancers. I always watch them-" Clint smiles. “I’ll try my best Viktoria. Just a piece of advice. You’re a clever girl you deserve better than this-“The girl leans in close to him, “Hey-hey, I have a wife. I don’t want that.” He murmurs to her horrified, “Let me help you.” He pulls a few notes out of his wallet regret instantly rising in his stomach, “Our little secret.” The girl frowns but she accepts it. “What is it you want?” She says voice trembling, “To help, you remind me of my sister” the lie flows out easily, “I can’t accept it, it’s yours.” The girl insists, he goes to argue “You should go.” The girl says with a fire Clint hasn’t seen, “Were closing. I don’t need pity. You Americans go around with your charity for something you don’t understand?!” Clint puts his hands up in surrender “Ok Viktoria, goodnight.” 

He waits in the vents and waits for her to leave after closing down the bar, tracking her down to a small flat watching her as she enters, the room is run down with a broken wardrobe in one corner containing a black ballet leotard, the sink is leaking but there’s a gun on the dresser that appears out of place with the Viktoria Clint had got to know. He leaves her to sleep, watching the door to her apartment, its in the early hours of the morning when a thug enters the apartment and reappears alongside Lilia in her Black ballet dress and takes her to the main tower. Clint groans rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, he grabs his coms unit calling Coulson, “Barton talk to me” “This watching and waiting isn’t working, the KGB are only gaining ground and I may have made a mistake—” Coulson sighs on the other end of the line “You better be able to fic this Barton.” “Yes. I’m going back to the circus.”


End file.
